


Won't you please stop loving me to death?

by kittenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, and written just to pity luke, it's actually pretty sad, kinda similar to a panic attack if you ask me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:20:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/pseuds/kittenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone was watching Luke. </p><p>or a literal interpretation of voodoo doll</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't you please stop loving me to death?

Someone was watching Luke.

 

He could feel their gaze glued to his trembling frame, its hooks attached to his sweaty skin.

 

It wasn't one of the boys. They had turned to ignoring him when he stopped talking to them a few hours prior. He hadn't _meant_ to. He wanted to engage in their conversation and take part in their usual pre-show banter. But his mouth was locked, his trembling lips pressed stiffly together. The words were caught in his throat. He was so convinced the syllables were clawing at it that he was surprised he hadn't started coughing up blood yet.

 

The feeling had come slowly, creeping up at him one minute at a time. It had started with a persistent dry mouth that wouldn't go away, even after he'd downed a week's supply of water bottles. Then came the temperature switches. One moment he was sweating like hell, the next he felt like he was going to freeze. He had soon come to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do besides shivering in his sweaty muscle tee.

 

All of this went unnoticed by his bandmembers. No, none of the symptoms were there to draw attention. They made him suffer quietly, safely hidden in the corner of the room. No one came looking for him after he'd dismissed their plan proposals with a shake of his head.

 

Seconds seemed like hours while he waited for their show to start. He didn't look forward to performing, but the sooner he ran on stage the sooner he would run off again. Right now, his only hope of salvation was sleep.

 

He sat alone on a love seat, silently watching Ashton tickle Michael while Calum was laughing at the pair. Besides the bandmembers, there were a few other people in the room. Stylists, people who worked at the venue, technicians, you name it. Luke could hear his name here and there, casually dropped in a conversation every now and then. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, whispered by gossiping lips and walls and tables and chairs and _posters_. The four-letter word echoed in the room.

 

All he could hear was _LukeLukeLuke_.

 

Not why they said it, much less _what_ they were saying about him.

 

He drummed his fingers nervously while bobbing his knee up and down. He was biting his lip and bunched his hands into fists. And there was blood. Its taste teased his tongue and the familiar thick fluid was trailing down his hands where his nails had pierced his skin.

 

“Guys, time to perform. You're on in five.”

 

Calum, Ashton and Michael replied with some _okay_ s and _yeah_ s, they're voice drenched in excitement. He blamed it on the Nickelback songs that were playing in the background, that music had a bigger effect on them than Redbull. Luke didn't look up. He couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze from that little spot on the wall that had become so familiar after staring at it for over five minutes.

 

The boys got up from the couch and untangled their limbs to fix their hair and outfits. God forbid there was a wrinkle in their dirty, ripped shirs. Luke simply ran his hand through his hair. It was more of a nervous habit than an attempt to fix his appearance. By now, he'd ran his hand through his quiff so many times he was sure there wasn't any hairspray left. The boy didn't even _dare_ to take a look in the mirror.

 

His friends didn't spare him a glance when they made their way to the stage. There was a low tolerance for arrogance in the band and that was no doubt what they had mistaken Luke's silence for.

 

The four boys ran on stage, each one of them hurrying to their own instrument. As soon as everyone had taken up their spot, they broke into their first song.

 

The lights were suffocating Luke, stealing the air from his lungs. There were too many cell phones, too many signs and too many _people_ in the crowd. The handwritten words seemed to try to swallow him, growing bigger and bigger the longer he stared at him. They were everywhere, to his left, to his right, no matter what he focused on. He looked up, deciding to train his eyes on what he expected to be darkness. Much to his displeasure, flashing lights now made his eyes sting. They hurt his head, making it feel like someone was repeatedly hitting him with a hammer. Strange, there were no phones or cameras on the _ceiling_.

 

Though his whole world was spinning, the lyrics were tumbling from his mouth flawlessly. His shaking fingers didn't miss a single note.

 

The music was too loud and the fans were screaming the words right back at him. On his left, he could see Michael and Calum playing next to each other, their bodies moving in sync. He made his way to Ashton, but the boy didn't acknowledge his presence. Instead of syncing like the other two, he focused his attention on his drums.

 

Feeling trapped, he returned to his microphone. No one seemed to notice his agonising pain or his distress. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run when the feeling got too much.

 

Before he could get used to all the noise and lights and stress and heat and cold the song ended. He glanced at his setlist nervously, mentally cursing this goddamn band when he saw that the next thing was _Luke talking_. He wasn't even going to hope for his friends to help him out. He was on his own and he knew it.

 

“Glasgow, you guys are amazing.” He yelled into the microphone, trying his best to hide the fact that he was panting. His words were received by loud screams and whistling. It should have given him some confidence, but it didn't. He couldn't trust his voice, nor his mind. “So many pretty girls here.” He complimented, letting his gaze graze the crowd for the first time. The fans screamed even louder, jumping and waving to get his attention. He couldn't see far past the stage, the lights were turned off. Yet he managed to make out a few faces on the front row. A tall blond, a crying brunette, a short girl with freaking purple hair, her, a redhead. _Her_.

 

Luke was sure he'd never seen her before.

 

He was also sure that he wasn't supposed to be able to see her smirk in the dark. Or the few black strands of hair that fell in front of her face. Or the evil glint in her sparkling green eyes when their gazes met.

 

Once he'd spotted her, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She seemed to stand out the way the moon did when it suddenly appeared on a cloudy night. And she _knew_. She radiated some sort of confidence that told him that she was the one who was in control. She had him on a leish, she had tied his gaze and his nerves and his veins to herself.

 

“Especially that dark-haired girl on the third row.”

 

The words tumbled from his mouth before he could grasp their meaning. He didn't know what hurt more, the glares his bandmates were currently boring in his back or the wave of disappointment that came from the crowd.

 

One of the most important concert rules was to never single a certain girl out.

 

He blinked quickly, as if that could make his actions undone. The moment seemed to drag out, seconds passing slowly while the truth dawned upon him. Then, before he could stop himself or realise what was about to happen he yelled:

 

“We are 5 Seconds of Summer and this song is called Green Light.”

 

He started strumming the familiar chords, letting out a sigh of relief when he heard the drums, guitar and bass accompany him.

 

He wanted to run away, run off stage, away from everyone and hide under his blankets. But he couldn't. He was trapped.

 

His hands started shaking even more, causing him to make mistake after mistake. Shivers ran down his spine because he swore he could feel someone touching him. Their hands were all over his body, caressing him, stroking him, groping him, pushing him.

 

Without wanting to, he ran towards Michael to sing in his microphone. He wanted to stop jumping and stop running and stop singing because he needed _air_. He was panting, gasping for breaths. His lungs needed air so much it _hurt_. With widened eyes he tried to show Michael what was happening.

 

Something was wrong. A lot of things were wrong.

 

And it hurt. It hurt so much.

 

His heart started beating faster and faster, pumping his blood through his veins as if it were a race. Sweat rolled down his face, making his eyes sting.

 

But Michael didn't notice. Why didn't he notice? Why didn't he _see_?

 

His head felt like it was going to explode, filled with too many thoughts and impressions. His heart rate sped up. His knees wobbled. His hands trembled. His lips quivered. His fingers bled. His lungs begged for air. His voice cracked in the middle of his solo.

 

And the fans screamed in horror. And Ashton jumped up from his seat. And Michael stopped singing mid-sentence. And Calum rushed towards him.

 

Because Luke Hemmings had crashed to the ground.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> like I said before, you can always request things (on tumblr - ashto-ohno - or on wattpad - anthemforthehomesick -)
> 
> but I can't promise I'll right it and if I do it might not be immediately


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